The Jerks I Call My Friends
by Rhino7
Summary: Olette catches her boyfriend cheating. Pence and Hayner each have their own way of cheering her up. Post KHII. Rated for safety.


**The Jerks I Call My Friends**

**By Rhino7**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters or storyline. This one-shot is mine. Bob Seger owns the song "Old Time Rock and Roll". I've only ever written with the Twilight Town group once before, so I'm not settled into how to write them yet. This one-shot is supposed to have OOCness to a degree, but I think about halfway through I got carried away. **

**Anyway, this was a nice therapeutic fic for me, since I just rejoined the singles' club. You could read this as a teaser for my drawing board fic **_**Thrill Seeker**_**, but there's not really any connection for it. This one-shot is post Kingdom Hearts II. I apologize in advance for the bad writing quality. I wasn't really planning on posting this until I'd already finished it. Kind reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated!**

**..:--X--:..**

"So Olette seems really bummed." Pence started.

"Uh huh." Hayner replied absentmindedly.

"She broke up with what's-his-face…Jet."

"Uh huh."

"She locked herself in her room."

"Uh huh."

"Won't come out or talk to anybody."

"Uh huh."

"Dude, could pretend to be a little concerned?" Pence frowned.

"Please, she's a girl. That's what they do." Hayner remarked.

"They do what?" Pence asked.

"Instigate a break up and then act all woebegone and broken hearted."

"That makes no sense."

Hayner clapped a hand on Pence's shoulder with a snort, "And it never will, my friend."

"Yeah, but she had to break up with this guy." Pence pointed out.

"Who, Jet? Yeah, he's a jerk. I don't know what she saw in him to begin with." Hayner swapped a few coins for an ice cream with the vendor.

"She caught him making out with another girl. Jet told her it was all Olette's fault and she broke it off right there." Pence paid for his own ice cream, and the boys started back toward the sand lot.

The Struggle Tournament Championship match would be starting soon. Setzer, the previous year's champion, versus Seifer, the top finalist of this year. Due to a few…behavioral complaints, Hayner had been forced to back out of the competition this year. It didn't bother him too much, since his two least favorite people ended up pitted against each other. He reveled in the idea of watching them bash the crap out of each other.

"What are we gonna do?" Pence asked.

"I'm not rooting for either of them. Hey, what if they knocked each other unconscious and it ended in a draw? Ooh, that'd be intriguing." Hayner drawled.

Pence pulled a face, "What? No, about Olette."

"Right, of course. Pence, she just broke up with a guy. She doesn't want another guy showing up to comfort her. She's probably in that phase where all the girlfriends come over, they eat chocolate, and watch sappy movies whilst burning everything Jet ever gave her…which probably wasn't much since he was a real cheapskate." Hayner reasoned.

"So you're not even going to try and cheer her up?" Pence asked disapprovingly.

Hayner shrugged, "Of course I'm going to try and cheer her up, but after she gets all that 'all men are no good slime bags' out of her system. Unless you wanna start singing soprano, you'd do the same."

Pence slowed his pace, "Well, I'm going to go see her, cheer her up, you know…basically be a better friend than you are."

Hayner held his hands out, "Power to you. Let me know how the chick flick marathon goes."

Pence watched his friend saunter on toward the Struggle courts and shook his head. Hayner had some sort of macho complex that Pence never questioned, but also never understood. Turning and heading back toward the orphanage where the group of friends lived, he wondered what singing soprano had to do with Olette being angry—Oh. His eyes widened, but he trudged on, determined to don his old baseball catcher's gear before going to see her.

**..:--X--:..**

"Don't try to take me to a disco! You'll never even get me out on the floor!" The stereo blared.

Olette slid across the wood floor of her room, using her shoe as a karaoke mike. She twirled the volume knob farther until the bass of the song made the accessories on her dresser jump. This song had played three times already and Olette almost knew all the words now. A few more goes and she'd have it down pat.

"In ten minutes I'll be late for the door. I like that old time rock and roll!" She sang loudly and off key, hopping up onto the bed and striking a rock star pose.

There were a few knocks on her door and a trepid voice called her name. Pence. Olette tossed her hair from her eyes, too far gone into a chocolate high to register he was outside her room. Strumming an invisible guitar with one windmill-ing arm, she pulsed one leg to the beat of the song, singing along still.

"I like that old time rock and roll! That kind of music just soothes the soul. I reminisce about the days of old…budda tadadada…rock and roll!" She filled in the blanks with her own lyrics, gibberish.

"Olette?" Pence called again.

Starting slightly, Olette stumbled off her bed and danced over to her door, letting the music sing by itself now. "Yeah?" She bellowed over the song.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm," She looked around her room, "fantastic."

"You sound drunk."

She laughed, "Oh please, it's not that bad." Yet.

Her normally tidy room had been hit by Hurricane Broken Heart. Her bed sheets were twisted all over the mattress, candy and shredded wrappers lay strewn about, and clothes were littered over the floor. As for Olette, her hair was unkempt and flying in all directions and she was wearing an orange T-shirt with shorts a putrid shade of green. Oh, it was bad.

On the other side of the door, Pence seemed to be weighing his options. "Well, if you need anything, I'll just be in my—"

Olette flung the door open, interrupting him. Leaning against the frame of the door, shoe still in hand, one eye squinted, she looked half mad.

"Why are you people such bozo, idiot, mud-for-brains?" She asked curtly.

Pence winced at her tone. "By 'you people' you mean…guys?"

Olette rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the shirt front, pulling him into her room and slamming the door closed.

**..:--X--:..**

"So I go to his friggin' apartment and I get his friggin' jersey that he needed. I friggin' take it to the friggin' gym and he's not friggin' there! So I go around to the friggin' back of the gym and there he is! With her! They were all—there was touching! Friggin' jerk!" Olette stomped through her venting, marching back and forth across her room.

Pence lingered near the corner, trying to appear as small and nonthreatening as possible. An angry Olette was a rare but dangerous situation. Hayner's warning floated through his head. Olette rambled on. How much could a girl talk before her jaw fell off?

"Then I was like 'Jet? What the hell?' and you know what he friggin' did? He blamed ME! Like I was the one who ordered him to play tonsil hockey with that skank-faced cheerleader! Guh, I friggin' hate him!" Olette fumed, arms taut at her sides, fists clenched as she marched.

It had been half an hour of ranting, venting, yelling, and some dancing when a good song came on. Pence had come to the conclusion that if one break up could make Olette psycho, then he'd just lead a happy bachelor's life and not worry about singing soprano…ever.

"Where's Thing Two?" Olette asked suddenly.

Pence wondered if this was one of those questions he was supposed to answer. He waited too long.

"Where's Hayner?" Olette exhaled in exasperation.

Pence curled in on himself. This wasn't going to be good, "Struggle championship."

Olette fixed him with a stare, tapping one finger harshly against the top of her dresser. Her lip was curling. Not good, bad sign, warning signal, alert, alert, alert. At least her jaw wasn't—nope, there it tensed up too.

"Well, he's a friggin' jerk too!" Olette exploded, throwing her arms up. "Ooh, he knows too! He knows what happened and he just goes to his stupid Struggle game. He thinks I'm being stupid, I know, right?"

Pence knew not to answer this one.

Olette made a frustrated noise and turned hard on her heel, "He's the stupid one. Men in general are the stupid ones. Guh! Men disgust me! They're all brutish, insensitive…friggin' jerks!" She ran an angry hand through her hair and started to stomp around some more.

Pence's face was lax, "Not all guys are…all that." He waved his hand around.

Olette planted her hands on her hips and drilled him with a stare, "Well, besides you they're all like that. Even Hayner! I'm in emotional turmoil and he's watching guys beat each other with sticks! That's no friend!"

She was upset. Olette tended to get irrational and exaggerated when she was upset. Lately she and Hayner had been at each other's throats over everything anyway, so Pence figured he should be used to it by now. Still, even when they were fighting, especially when they were fighting, Pence felt like he was missing something he should be picking up on.

"Come on, Olette, you don't mean that. Besides, first relationships never work out. Teenaged couples rarely last."

The vein in Olette's temple was pulsing.

"Then what am I supposed to do? Huh? Wait around until all you stupid boys mature and stop being such rabid, hormonal…sexbots? I'm going to be an old maid!" She flung herself dramatically onto her bed, rolling onto her stomach to face Pence. "Maybe I'll just stay in here for the rest of my life. Is that what you're suggesting? Relationships don't work until we're old and by then it's no fun!"

"I never said—"

"I'll just stash myself away right in this room. I'll be the Ms. Havisham of Twilight Town."

"The who?"

"Summer reading, Pence! There's another thing! Boys are so lazy! Forever procrastinating and always blaming someone else when things go wrong. Jet blamed me! What kind of friggin' drugs is he on? Why would I be the reason he ran off with Miss Cleavage?"

"Jet is a jerk. You…you deserve better than him. You shouldn't waste time with a loser like him." Pence offered gently.

Some of the angry tension leached from Olette's shoulders.

"He really is a loser." She affirmed under her breath.

Pence exhaled carefully. Bullet dodged, voice level still in contact.

"Then why did he do it?"

Oh crap.

By a favor of the gods, Pence's cell phone went off at that moment. Throwing Olette an apologetic look, he pulled out his phone and checked the number. He turned slightly from Olette and pulled the phone to his ear.

"Hayner?" He greeted.

Olette sat up, scowling.

"Open the back door." was Hayner's greeting.

"What?"

"The back door's locked. Come open it for me."

"Why?"

"Just because, you doink."

"Why not use the front—" Pence was cut off as Olette snatched up the phone.

"How'd the game go, flaky?" She snapped.

"Fine. Setzer won. It was rigged." Hayner's voice was clear over the phone and Pence could still make out what he was saying.

"So why do you think he cheated on me?" Olette snarled into the phone.

Hayner could be heard sighing, "Give the phone back to Pence. I'm not getting into this right now."

"Oh I'm sorry. Is my broken heart an inconvenience for you?" Olette barked.

"Don't throw that crap at me. You're not broken hearted. It's your fault he did it."

Oh, if only the window in her room was big enough for Pence to climb through.

Olette bunched up at the shoulders, looking like she'd just eaten a lemon. "HOW IS IT MY FAULT THAT ALL MEN ARE BACK-STABBING, NO GOOD, DIRTY, ROTTEN SCUMBAGS?!" She screamed into the phone.

"You really don't know when to quit." Hayner muttered in reply.

Pence inched away from the wall, "I'm gonna go unlock—"

Olette threw out a hand, "Stay here, Pence. I want a witness."

"A witness?"

"To the first ever murder over the phone." She hissed, rounding back on the phone.

"Oh come on. It's gonna start raining soon." Hayner lamented.

"There you go again! You people have no regard for sensitivity or compassion!" Olette ranted.

"If you people weren't so high maintenance, we'd get along better." Hayner countered.

Olette scoffed, "And how do you figure that?"

"Pence!" Hayner yelled loudly over the phone, "Unlock the back door and let me in. You're bigger than she is, don't let her stop you."

"Pence, don't you help him again." Olette threatened.

"If I get a cold out here, I'm sneezing on both you guys' pillows." Hayner said tersely.

A beat passed. Pence frowned apologetically to Olette, turning toward the door.

"Olette, we're not the bad guys here. Hayner and I don't—"

Olette snapped his phone closed and threw it at him, "Fine, take his side. I knew you would. You people always band together. You're all friggin' jerks!"

Pence made a quick getaway before she could snatch up a weapon and hastened down the hallway. Shaking his head, he shuffled to where the back door was. Man, women were weird and cranky when it came to romantic junk.

**..:--X--:..**

The back door of the orphanage where they lived opened into the alley against the pawn shop. If Twilight Town had been capable of a black nighttime, it would have been quite the cliché shady alley. The door was normally locked from lack of use except for taking out the trash.

Pence reached the door and released the bolt of the lock, sliding it out and turning the knob. It was raining now, a light drizzle, enough to make everything sticky. He had no time to admire the rain as Hayner shouldered past him into the warmer hallway.

"About time." Hayner grunted, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Pence closed the door and relocked it, "Yeah, now Olette's mad at me too, thanks to you."

"I gathered that. What'd you do?" Hayner looked over at Pence.

"Apparently I'm siding with you on—What happened to your face?" Pence gaped.

Hayner turned his back on Pence and started down the hallway, "Fell down."

"On what? The corner of a cinderblock?" Pence said incredulously.

The right side of Hayner's face was swelling and already turning a bruised purple. The epicenter of the bruise seemed to be around his cheek, making his eye appear half closed and bloodshot. A red blotch of blood was slick and drying over his chin from a split Iip. He was also walking funny. Not necessarily limping, but he was obviously trying not to move his ribs too much.

Pence walked with him. "Trouble at the Struggle?"

"Something like that." His tone added the aside: Drop it.

A cranky Hayner was a dangerous situation too, but at the moment, Pence was more afraid of Olette, so he decided not to drop it.

"Did you and Seifer get into it again?" He pried.

Hayner groaned in frustration, "No."

"Rai?"

"No."

"…Fuu?"

"No!"

"What? She's freakishly strong for a girl." Pence held up his hands.

Hayner rolled his eyes, "Look, I just wanna get cleaned up and not talk about this."

Pence sighed, "Whatever." He grimaced at the ugly bruising taking over his friend's face.

Hayner waved him off, heading up the stairs, "You think this is bad? You should have seen the other guy."

Pence snorted and shook his head, following Hayner upstairs. When they reached the second floor, Pence went right to go to his own room and Hayner peeled left…and bumped into Olette. Normally, Olette softened slightly when Hayner showed up after a fight. Her compassion had gone on vacation today.

"You idiot." She barked.

Hayner pulled his hands out of his pockets and made to shuffle past her. Olette side stepped to block him, staring him down with a glare that could have burned through solid wood. Hayner sighed.

"Can we not do this right now?" He moaned.

Olette's eyes were red, "So what was it this time? Seifer gloat about being better than you? Didn't like the Struggle outcome? Ice cream not salty enough?"

Hayner gave her a worn out look, "What are you doing?"

"I just wanna know." Olette gave a violent shrug of her shoulders, "I just want to know what prompted this most recent bout of stupidity."

Hayner narrowed his eyes, "Fighting isn't stupid. Going out with Jet is stupid."

"Don't turn this around on me."

Hayner threw his hands up, "That's exactly what you're doing to me! It's not my fault Jet turned out to be the cheating jerk I told you he was from the get-go. It's not my fault he made out with that girl and you caught him and it's not my fault you broke up with him. You can't just blow up on me and Pence every time you screw something up."

"Leave me out of this." Pence shrank back farther. He sensed a full Hayner versus Olette fight over nothing coming on and he wanted no part of it.

"When—when I screw something up? He was the one—"

"Why do you think he did that?" Hayner raised his voice, giving in to the fight that Olette just HAD to get out of her system.

"Because he's a selfish boy, like all of you!"

"You drove him away, Olette. Geez, you set your standards so high that no mortal man can meet them! Jet is a scumbag anyway, but you and your high and mighty idea of yourself made it worse. Nobody can compete with this ought-to-be world you've created in your head."

"Like you're any better! Look at yourself: bloody, bruised, beaten up…for what? Bragging rights? Tough guy status? You're just as selfish and stupid as you're making me out to be."

"How is getting beat up selfish?" Hayner pointed at her, revealing busted and bloody knuckles.

Olette pushed his arm away from her, "You'd rather run off to that stupid Struggle and get in a stupid fight than be here for me when I need you. Pence was here. Pence is a real friend."

"What is this about?" Hayner threw his hands up. "You're not making any sense. What are you so hacked off about?"

Angry tears were burning Olette's eyes now. "Can't I just be mad for a while? Can't you guys just let me be mad and say stupid things and stomp around. I just got cheated on and everybody's saying it's my fault. Well just shut up and leave me alone! I don't need this and I don't need untrustworthy friends like you who keep dogging out on me!" She yelled. "You just make me so—"

Unable to word her exact feelings, Olette reeled back and smashed her fist into Hayner's shoulder. Hayner took the attack but grabbed her wrist afterwards to prevent a second hit.

"Untrustworthy?" He said loudly.

Olette tore her wrist free and snarled, "Yes, Hayner, look at yourself! You look terrible!"

Hayner clamped up then. He pursed his lips and drew back, deeming this fight a lost cause. Olette was just burning steam now. He couldn't win these fights. Standing slightly away from them, Pence held up his hands in surrender, never mind he wasn't in the fight to begin with.

Hayner lifted his palms out, giving Olette a good view of his bleeding knuckles. "Fine." He said simply.

Olette glared. "Fine."

"Fine." Hayner immediately repeated, turning and heading for his room again. Upon reaching the door, he half turned back, "You think I look terrible? You should see the other guy!"

Olette's face reddened further, "Fine!"

"Fine." Hayner shook his head at her.

Pence stepped gingerly forward. "So…everybody's fine?"

Olette stomped her foot and stormed into her room. Hayner shook his head once more and walked into his room. Their doors slammed closed and Pence found himself standing alone in the empty hallway. He dropped his hands to his sides with a slap.

"Fine." He shrugged, heading to his own room and closing the door.

**..:--X--:..**

Olette and Hayner weren't on speaking terms the next day, so Pence served as a buffer, walking between them when they walked around town. He hated when his friends fought, but he knew better than to try and patch things up for them. He'd kind of started to pick up on the fact that he just couldn't help them get along.

Hayner didn't do well with not talking. Whilst Olette had perfected the cold shoulder, Hayner had not yet mastered the mirroring of the tactic. So, after just a few hours, he threw his bruised hands in the air and stomped off. Olette made no acknowledgement of his exit and the silence was so thick that soon Pence left too, leaving Olette alone.

Olette knew Hayner had probably stowed himself away at the Usual Spot, so she headed to the opposite side of town. Oh, he made her so angry! He was no better than Jet—

Jet?

Olette slowed her pace when she saw the dark haired teen idling with his back to her at the train station. His left arm was in a sling, probably a dirt bike accident. Puh, he deserved it. She straightened her neck and angled away from him. She truly was surrounded by idiot jerk boys. First Hayner gets himself beat up, then Jet gets…

She paused as she stomped away, looking over at Jet as he turned to talk to his friends. His face was a mess of bruises and his eye was swollen completely closed. When he opened his mouth to speak, she saw that two of his teeth were missing. That was no bike accident. He'd had the crap beaten out of him, by bloody knuckled fists.


End file.
